


Hope Is the First Transmission

by escribo



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Books, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Happy Ending, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romance, farmers market
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: There's a happy ending at the end of this story.But first, Adam has a revelation and some news from back home.There is no grief like the grief that does not speak—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow





	1. Chapter 1

One. _What’s Past Is Prologue._ — William Shakespeare

The idea that Adam could be the architect of his own escape was the only thought that got him through high school. Once gone, he thought he would never look back, that he would never want to. It took four years to earn his undergraduate degree, another three to earn his law degree, another two to establish his reputation as a shark at a large firm in Manhattan. Along the way, he took a chainsaw to his accent, worked the worst jobs in order to afford the best clothes, and bent his morals into a pretzel to know the right people. At nearly thirty, he had everything he ever thought he could possibly want. 

The only problem was how much he hated it—all of it and himself most of all.  

It was while pondering this deep well of self-loathing that Adam discovered he did actually need to be able to look himself in the eye when he shaved in the mornings, which meant that perhaps bespoke suits, a view of Central Park (no matter that the view relied heavily on imagination from his tiny loft), and finding a loophole in every argument were not everything. That was a tough pill to swallow when his main job duty was to crush the opposition whatever the cost. 

Worse than that (and much to his horror), he also discovered that he couldn't stop thinking about going home and that home meant Henrietta instead of his slick if sterile apartment.  No one could be more surprised by that realization than he was, if there had been anyone he could confide in, but once he thought it, it was like an itch that he could never reach. 

Not that he tried. 

How many nights had he wished to be away from there when he was a kid? To be anywhere that wasn’t his hometown? To be exactly where he was now?

He spent another miserable two years launching himself at this carefully cultivated life that he had he thought he wanted, compressing his soul into something nearly unrecognizable, while trying to pretend he wasn't homesick—not for his parents, never for them, but for the town itself and for the person he once was. 

Adam thought that maybe he could have gone on like that forever—people have lived with worse things—but then came the call. 

He hadn’t known his mother’s sisters very well. He remembered them only as people his father hated but his father had hated everyone so that didn’t count for much. Sitting at his desk at Parker, Mansfield, Parker, and Schultz, listening to a woman who called herself his Aunt Clem, whose voice sounded exactly the same as his mother’s, Adam had gripped the receiver until his knuckles turned white, the plastic creaking under the pressure. He couldn’t remember having ever met her and so in his mind, the face he conjured was his mother’s as well—faded and tired, mouth set in a hard, unforgiving line that somehow conveyed the belief that kindness was a weakness, the skin around her eyes tight and broken by fine lines. 

“I just thought you should know,” the woman said. 

Adam had been lost to memory at the first sound of her voice. “Thank you,” he whispered, forcing his voice steady. Inside, his heart pounded in his chest, the sound a rush in his ears.

“Robert Parrish was always a son of a bitch,” she carried on, her accent slurring the epithet into a kind of a song _sum’fabitch_. “Figured he would drive his truck into a tree but the cancer got him first. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to know but I thought you should.”

“Thank you,” he said again, surprised by the sound of his voice. “I haven’t spoken with anyone in the family in years. I didn’t know he was sick.” 

He didn’t explain the strange tradition he followed with his mother every Christmas and Mother’s Day when he would call, the line on the other end silent except for the distant sound of cars or dogs in the background until he would whisper his well wishes that always left him feeling empty and inadequate before he would hang up. Did he love his mother? Had he ever loved his father?

“Funeral’s done. Should’ve called sooner but we didn’t reckon you’d come anyway. It’s done and now you know.” 

When the phone line went dead, Adam touched his fingertips to his cheeks and found them wet. He sat up straighter in his office chair, finding his chrome and glass surroundings to be incongruous to the conversation he just had. He pushed his forefinger into a slow circle on the trackpad of his laptop to wake it up, the text of the brief he had been working on springing back up onto the monitor. He stared at the blinking cursor but couldn’t make sense of it. 

His father was dead. No reason to think of anything except the motion to dismiss that needed to be filed by the end of the day. His father was dead.

The decision to go back had the effect of setting off a bomb in the middle of his carefully constructed life. He was so stunned by his own actions that he couldn't even find the words to explain to Ashley, the woman who had agreed to marry him, why he had just quit his job, broke his lease, and packed a bag, much less explain why he could no longer marry her. He knew if he told her about his father—everything about his father—that she would have understood. Maybe. He couldn’t imagine this would ever make any sense to her because sensible, logical Adam couldn’t even organize his own thoughts about it. He just couldn’t be here anymore. He needed Henrietta and he couldn’t even explain it to himself. 

To her, he just said he needed time.

And she was willing to give it to him.

Technically, she told him to sort himself out and come back when he was over his midlife crisis and ready to grow the fuck up as tears coursed down her small, red face, chucking a pair of impossibly high Manolo Blahnik’s one-by-one at his retreating back, but he thought maybe it amounted to the same thing.

The thing was as soon as Adam drove his rental car down Henrietta’s Main Street, the buildings and shops faded in the late afternoon sun but still so familiar, something settled in his chest and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in years, maybe ever. He wanted to hate the sight of Mountain View High School as he idled across from it at a stoplight, heading for a hotel near the railroad tracks, but found himself curious instead. As the light turned from red to green to yellow for the second time, he wondered at the changes he could see and fought a rising tide of memories—of pep rallies and final exams and the cafeteria’s strangely delicious rectangular pizzas. When his thoughts landed on Blue Sargent, the first person he had ever kissed, he smiled for the first time in what felt like years. 

Checking in to the Sleep Inn, he grinned at the soft, musical sound of the clerk’s Henrietta accent and let his own slip out, amazed that his mouth remembered how to soften his vowels and clip his g’s.

“Local,” the woman asked, mildly surprised. She looked at him with new eyes and let her smile go a bit wider. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been away for a bit, though.”

“It’s always good to come back home. You have people here?”

Adam shook his head, lowering his eyes as he picked up a ball point pen and clicked it once and then again. “Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

“Henrietta’s still home, though,” she said, her voice telling him that she was an authority on the matter.

He nodded as he signed his name at the bottom of his credit card receipt and took the key from her. He found couldn’t disagree.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam isn't planning to stay in Henrietta. He just needs a little time to sort things out. Funny how quickly plans can change.

Four weeks later, Adam still wasn’t sure what he was doing in Henrietta. He hadn’t visited his father’s grave or talked with his mother. He hadn’t returned any of Ashley’s calls or checked his emails. He’d done nothing but rent a house and order a thick stack of books online. The house, a small, drafty Craftsman near Main Street with a wide porch, was furnished but needed work. The books were all childhood favorites. The books won out for the first three weeks so he called it a vacation, much needed. He didn’t talk to anyone except the postman who eyed his Amazon boxes with benign interest and the teenage clerk at the grocery who wished him a _good evenin’_ in her heavy Henrietta accent when he would amble in every few days just before closing for milk, coffee, cereal, and enough frozen pizzas to see him through.

By the Saturday morning of the fourth week, a drip beneath the kitchen sink had left a puddle that was slowly soaking his socks as he stood at the window sipping his coffee. He’d stayed up far too late reading Tolkien and while it was annoying, his wet socks, he couldn’t quite gather his thoughts any further than the tips of the oak trees that lined Main Street and the spire of St. Agnes, just visible. Halfway through his second cup, he began to shift from foot to foot and wondered at the chance that the hardware store was still in business. He had lived in New York long enough to hate the thought of driving anywhere, much less to the edge of town to find a big box store that sold wrenches and plumbers tape. 

An hour later, showered, freshly shaved, and his tiny flood mostly contained by a large cooking pot, Adam was pleased to discover that he could remember where Boyd’s, the auto body shop he worked at in high school, was in relation to Marlene’s Diner (now Henry’s, _why do things have to change_ ). Also, how if he came up Oak Street then crossed Hickory, he could be back with breakfast and a wrench before mid-morning. He’d left the hobbits in some peril and was eager to see them through but he wasn’t counting on the farmers’ market.

Back when he had last been in Henrietta, the main feature of Founders Park had been three benches, a rusted merry-go-round, and a set of swings with no seats. At night, the Aglionby boys would sometimes fight the Mountain View boys for the few girls willing to drink with them in the center of town. There had been better places to hang out than the park, Adam was sure, though having to work after school and then be home in bed before curfew, which happened to coincide with the last call at the bars, didn’t leave much time for teenage Adam to explore the possibilities. He’d heard tales, though. 

Now, Founders Park was charming, there was no other word for it. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting. It was the background setting for a musical starring Mickey Rooney and Shirley Temple. He half expected to see choreographed dances leading to a proposal in the rose-draped gazebo next to a picturesque pond with an honest to god swan floating in the middle. Through the open door of the hardware store, Adam could see colorful, modern playground equipment, a bandstand in the center of the park, a line of newly planted trees, and, most curious of all, a large market in full swing.

“How long has that been going on?” he asked mostly to himself. 

The cashier eyed Adam for a minute before he resettled a worn ball cap on his head and then stood with his hands on his hips. He looked out the door with Adam as if seeing it for the first time, maybe considering what the park, with its peaked white vendors’ tents and the faint sound of cheery music, looked like to an outsider. A couple with a golden retriever was crossing the street, canvas bags hanging from their arms, and then a pick-up rattled past before they had a clear view again of the market.

“Oh, started ‘bout two years ago, I guess, with just the farmers but you can find most anything there now.”

“Must be good for business.”

“Hasn’t hurt it none.”

The clerk was right, Adam thought, you could find almost anything. It felt more like a bizarre than a farmers market, particularly since Adam hadn’t seen anyone who looked remotely like a farmer. At least his idea of a farmer. Once he made it past the food trucks with a cup of fair-trade coffee in one hand and the sticky residue of an apple cider doughnut in the other, his bag from the hardware store hanging off his wrist, Adam discovered vendors in the tightly packed tents. He made his careful way down the line, inspecting bars of goat milk soap, handpainted jewelry, quilts, butchers blocks, boiled peanuts, olive oil, birdhouses, and anything else he could imagine, including, at the end, fruits, vegetables, bags of grain, a butcher, a fishery, and a dairy farm offering fresh cheese, milk delivery, yogurt, and kefir on a handprinted sign.

By the time he made his slow way back to the start, the vendors were mostly packing up and he found himself hungry again but arrested by the sight of a tiny holiday camper painted blue and filled with what promised to be refashioned vintage clothes and accessories. Something about it reminded Adam of high school. Of long hours studying at a scarred table in the back of the library. Of eating lunch beneath a sprawling hickory tree that would turn bright yellow every fall. Of the smell of freesia and his best friend. 

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on to the memories that had been the only good thing about his teen years: his ten-speed bicycle, pizza at Nino’s, Blue’s small hand in his. He felt himself fill with such a bubbling joy that what happened next didn’t surprise him in the least.

“Adam Parrish, as I live and breath.”

Adam smiled his small, cautious smile. He could still smell the sweet sugary scent of fresh kettle corn and hear the soft strains of a fiddle being played solemnly somewhere near. When he finally opened his eyes, it was to see a small woman standing on the top step of the open door of the camper. She wore a bright blue circle skirt and an oversized yellow cropped sweater over a purple tank top. Her hair was longer, a halo of natural curls only partially tamed by a feathered fascinator. On her feet were worn combat boots. She looked at once all grown up and exactly like she did when he last saw her the summer before he left for college. For a minute, he wondered if he managed to conjure her up with the force of his nostalgia. 

“Hey, Blue,” he finally said, feeling inexplicably awkward and shy.

“Don’t _hey, Blue_ me. Come here and give me a hug.” Adam caught her when she launched herself into his arms, spinning her like he used to do when they were kids. He hadn’t realized until this moment that this was what he wanted from Henrietta and he held her a bit tighter before setting her back on her feet. Blue Sargent’s eyes looked the same as when they were sixteen, crinkled with her smile and spilling over with mischief. 

She squeezed his forearms and then stepped back to look at him more carefully. He couldn’t help briefly closing his eyes when she cupped his cheek. “I can’t believe how grown up you are.”

“If you mean old…”

“I don’t. I mean tall and handsome.”

“I’ve been waiting ten years for the prettiest girl in Henrietta to take notice.”

“Pshaw. Well if you came back to sweep me off my feet, you’re too late.”

“Married?” She nodded, squinting up at him. “I didn’t expect that. I thought—“ Adam stopped short. Was it polite conversation to remind a person of their teenage dreams of getting out? “I mean congratulations, of course. I'm just surprised. I didn’t even expect to see you here. So much has changed.”

Adam felt that sinking, off-kilter feeling that was becoming all too familiar. The one that reared up to remind him that everything had changed, especially him. He wondered again why he had come back to Henrietta at all.

Blue just smiled at him, giving him the sense that she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I left and came back. My mom’s still here and my husband might love Henrietta more than me so here I am.”

“Is he a local?”

“After a fashion. He went to Aglionby.”

Adam raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You married a raven boy?”

“Why does everyone always say it like that?”

“Because you were quite vocal about it. You had rules.”

Blue laughed before she nodded her head in agreement. “I suppose. I met him while I was in college so I guess he’s just an exception. He didn’t seem like much of a raven boy by then.”

“That’s quite a coincidence.”

“He doesn’t believe in them.”

“So, what? Everything happens for a reason?” Adam had never been a fan of destiny and it must have shown on his face. The thought that the universe wanted him to be beaten as a child for some greater purpose didn’t sit well. Blue reached for him again, squeezing a quick hug to his waist.

“Not quite. He’s a big fan of free will. He just thinks that he and I were meant to be together so if I had a rule against dating a raven boy when he happened to be attending Aglionby then the universe had to present a different opportunity for it to happen.”

“And what was that?”

“I met him hiking in Peru during my last summer before graduation." Blue looked down the promenade of vendor tents to where the farmers were set up. She looked happy and beautiful because of it. "He was literally sitting on the side of the trail with a friend and when I came around the corner, he said, ‘oh, there you are’ as if he’d been waiting all day for me to show up.” 

It had the sound of an oft-told story. “And you fell for that?”

“Hard.” Blue laughed again. 

Adam let himself laugh along with her as he tried to remember if she’d been this happy in high school and decided no. People were rarely happy in high school and they hadn’t been exceptions. 

“On anyone else, it would have been the worst pick-up line but somehow I believed him. Come on.” Blue linked her arm through his and tugged him back toward the row of farmers. “Do you have time? He’s just over at the booth for the creamery.” 

“Is he a farmer?”

“No. His best friend owns it but Ronan’s not really a fan of people.”

“But he has a booth?”

“This whole market exists so that he can have a booth," Blue said, sweeping her hand out to encompass the whole line of food trucks, vendor tents, and her own small camper full of wares. "He makes the best yogurt. I practically live off it. I’d like you to meet him.” 

“The farmer?”

“Gansey. My husband.”

“Your husband. I’m not sure I’m ready to think of you as married yet," Adam said, his step faltering. "When I got here I thought Henrietta was the town that time forgot but everything has changed.”

“Cost of growing up. The good news is you’re the same boy who gave the valedictorian’s speech about keeping your feet on the ground, your head in the stars, and your heart moving forward.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” 

“Of course I do. At the time, I thought it was the most magnificent thing I had ever heard. I mean, I was eighteen," Blue said with a laugh. "I still do, actually. I’m not sure I would have made it through college without the thought that I would disappoint you if I didn’t chase after my dreams.”

Adam turned his face away from her, embarrassed to remember what his own dreams had been at eighteen.

“Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No, not at all. It’s just…growing up. I’m trying to figure out if that boy I was would be disappointed in who he grew up to be.”

“Not possible. Last I heard, you graduated top of your class at Harvard Law. I can’t help but think that didn’t lead to great things.”

“Up until a month ago, I worked at a big firm in New York. Corporate work mostly.”

“Oh? You quit?”

“Yep.”

“To come back to Henrietta?”

“Yeah, that’s what my fiancee thought, too.”

“Past tense?”

“I’m not sure honestly. We haven’t talked since I left New York.”

“So what have you been doing?”

“Reading mostly? This is the first time in my life when I haven’t been in school or work or both. I just.” Adam pushed a hand through his hair and looked away from Blue. Down at this end of the market, the vendors were packed up for the day and the crowds had all but disappeared. He looked back down, his lips twisting into a grim smile. “You know my dad died. Cancer. Back about a month ago.”

“I heard. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it.”

“At first, I thought I’d come see my mother but I haven’t even driven past where she lives yet. I can't." Adam shook his head. He knew his mother was still in the tiny trailer he had grown up in and the thought of walking back inside even knowing his father was gone was too much. He wasn't ready. He shook his head. "Not yet anyway. I rented a house a few streets over and mostly what I’m doing is trying to see how many books my cashed out 401k can buy.”

“Well, you probably already know Gansey then. He owns Monmouth Books.”

“I drove by when I came into town," Adam said, remembering the refurbished warehouse with its promise of new and used books. "I haven’t been inside yet.”

“Please don’t let him know you’re going to the chain out at the mall to get your books.”

“Worse. I’ve been ordering them online.”

“Oh man. He’ll smell it on you.” Blue flashed a grin up at Adam and then pulled him forward the last few steps to the creamery's tent. 

The handmade sign was still up and now Adam took the time to read it closely. Besides the offerings he'd noticed earlier, he saw now that at the top it said The Barns in curling letters, established the year he had graduated high school. Behind the table, there were two men working to load what few items remained into crates. One, a young man with a mop of sun-bleached curls and a bright smile called out a greeting to Blue. 

The other man turned and smiled at her as well, his eyes soft in a way that let Adam know this must be Gansey. Adam was surprised. Gansey--a Gap ad in his pressed khaki trousers and button-down shirt with the sleeves carefully folder back over strong forearms--was compact, neat and orderly in a way that seemed uniquely opposed to Blue's chaos. His smile and shoulders radiated confidence, his eyes politely distant as if he expected Blue was just handing him another customer. When Blue introduced Adam, Gansey was all warmth in an instant and Adam was a bit overwhelmed by the difference.

“Your first kiss!” Gansey exclaimed. He put down the crates he'd been holding and came out from around the tables to shake Adam's hand. 

Adam could understand how Blue fell for this Gansey in an instant. He felt himself wanting to move closer, wanting Gansey's approval. He could feel his cheeks warming up as he remembered his and Blue's only kiss during their eighth-grade dance when they decided that they were definitely just friends. “Oh my god. Literally the worst story you could tell about me.”

“That’s why it’s so charming! I tell that story and follow it up with your valedictorian speech and people think I'm just telling them about a character I've read from a book. And now I get to show Gansey that you’re a real person." She grins at them both. "Adam’s given up his life in New York to come to Henrietta to read books all day.”

“Now I think I’ve dreamt you up," Gansey said, still holding Adam's hand but now pulling him in closer with a hand to his shoulder. "Tell me what you’re reading so I can see if we can be friends.”

“I’m in the middle of the _Two Towers_.”

“Your first time?”

“Not even my tenth.”

“Then we’re friends already." Gansey patted his shoulder twice then stepped back to rest his hand on Blue's back. "I don’t even mind that you’ve kissed my wife.”

“Speaking of your wife," Blue said. "I have to get back to my booth. Adam?” Blue stretched up on her toes for another hug and kissed him on his cheek. “How long will you be in Henrietta?”

“I’m not sure. I really don’t have a plan.”

“Stay here then and let Gansey convince you into doing something while you’re here.”

“What kind of something?”

“I don’t know yet." Blue hugged Gansey's arm and kissed his shoulder. "Gansey is one of those annoyingly good people who has his pockets crammed full of community service projects that always need volunteers.”

“People like to be useful, Jane,” Gansey said.

Adam mouthed, "Jane?" back at her. 

She just shrugged a little helplessly, her cheek pressed against Gansey. “He’s also running for city council so he wants your vote, too.”

“Adam looks like an engaged citizen who is new to town and interested in meeting the candidates.”

Gansey and Blue looked at him expectantly and Adam nodded before he shook his head. “I’m not registered, at least not here."

"That alright. Registering to vote is a good way of establishing residency. I know the elections commissioner. She can get you set up."

"I’m not sure how long I’ll stay,” Adam said a little helplessly but he already knew he wouldn't leave Henrietta anytime soon. Standing with Blue and Gansey, Adam felt settled in a way he hadn't, not in a long time. Maybe not ever. He liked the way they looked at him as if he already belonged. He found himself nodding, agreeing, and their smiles grew wider. "I suppose it is my civic duty."

"Exactly!" Gansey offered Adam his fist to bump and smiled impossibly brighter when Adam did. 

Adam decided at that moment that he loved them both.

“I’m 100% sure he doesn’t buy his books online either,” Blue said suddenly, clapping her hands together. “Right I have to get back. Be gentle with him, Dick.” Blue stretched up to kiss first Gansey and then Adam’s cheek. “And invite him to dinner after you’ve convinced him to do something worthy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, who is that mysterious farmer?


End file.
